On writing and publishing

Some writers call their book their "baby." I have a different take.

We Arrive Uninvited took me ten years to write.

Okay, so that’s a dramatic writer thing to say.

We Arrive Uninvited took me ten years to write, BUT there were years, months, and days I never so much as looked at that manuscript. If I’m being entirely honest, it probably took me a year to write, but that year was spread out over ten because I was working. A lot.

Besides, I always found it much easier and more gratifying to write and share short stories than toil away at the novel because, well, the novel was hard. It required sustained focus and attention. It required something else that I’ve struggled with my entire life. Patience.

But I did it, which means anyone can (sans AI). But it’s incredibly hard work. As is understanding and navigating the world of book sales.

Before the novel was truly, truly complete, I began to send it out for consideration by THE publishing industry. I acquired an agent quickly, but she wanted me to turn the novel into a YA romance, which didn’t make any sense, so that relationship ended. I found another agent (a “bigger” agent), who loved the work but again wanted changes to the story (oddly enough in a very opposite way - “Get rid of the young narrator, and . . .”).

I stayed true to my vision and continued to tweak it. I destroyed the manuscript and rebuilt it. I did that multiple times.

Over the years, excerpts from the novel won awards and placed highly in adaptation contests, but there were many false starts. Ultimately, in 2021, the manuscript won two awards in one week. One was the Steel Toe Books Award for Prose and the other was the Winter Goose Publishing Award. The very same week, Tiny Fox Press asked for a phone conversation and another agent request was in my inbox. I declined Winter Goose and Tiny Fox because I’d heard from STB first, and I knew that they put out beautiful books (see above).

The book was finally going to be published. But the journey didn’t stop there.

Fast forward to late February 2023, and my book is slated for prerelease sale. There was a metadata error that caused a few blank copies of my book to be shipped, and I was feeling a bit raw. I received videos and pictures from friends and students with my blank book. It was kind of funny, but also not-so-funny. Soon thereafter, a F*x News style blogger that likes to critique small presses came after my publishers and tried to discredit not only them but many of the amazing authors they’ve published over the years.

I understand why others (see: me, five years ago) would lose their shit under these circumstances. To write a book, to dedicate years (or a year) means an author is emotionally attached. Such an author wants others to read their book. As many others as possible, in fact. And if anything might negatively impact that, it feels like a personal affront.

For non-writers, this might not seem logical, but writing is soul work. As such, many authors refer to their books as babies. I like to refer to mine, a little more accurately I think, as my ego baby. Because once the thing is packaged and complete, I know that my attachment no longer has anything to do with the divine process of creativity. Now it’s business. I can’t even tell you how much I want this baby to succeed, but that’s all ego. And when I step away from that, I see only a remarkable amount of gratitude for the ups and downs of this process.

From idea to publication.

From a practical perspective, I want to go on record as saying that it takes a lot of time to read manuscripts, and it costs money to publish books. It takes resources to edit. Most publishers get inundated with work, and small publishers are often the bridge between truly innovative/quality work and audiences. To find a small publisher today is to find a small team who believes in your work enough to invest in you, and invest is the keyword.

And invest, my small publisher had. They offered edits that were in alignment with my vision, they were careful not to try to change my voice to play to what I recently heard an ex-editor/agent refer to as what she said the big four publishing houses (she works for) target: “The lowest common denominator.”

Being a small publisher can be a true labor of love. This is why, when my book’s pre-release metadata was off, I never faulted my publishers. They responded to the mistake immediately and corrected it best they could. And, as my husband said when it happened, “They’re human.” So am I.

While I cannot deny that my ego baby means a lot, I’ve learned over the years to let the book go once it’s shipped or published, or shared. Yes, I will market it (see above & below), and I will spread the word. I will open its pages and read it at bookstores. Perhaps you’ll even catch me clutching my ego baby to my chest and rocking it from time to time (she is beautiful). But I know that this is not the creative process.

As of now, it is still humans who tell stories. And humans usher stories into the world. As long as we remain human, there will be emotions and a swirl of possible mistakes. But we do our best, and it’s a beautiful dance.

We Arrive Uninvited is slated to release this week. My publishers have put in tremendous work to help develop the manuscript. They have invested in the story and packaged it with care.

To this writer’s mind, true storytelling comes from a place of purity and grace and is an almost-spiritual offering to the world. We can’t forget this beauty or its magnitude, but we also can’t contain it.

I’ll end this by saying, ego baby or not, I wrote a good story, and I’m proud. I’m grateful for those who invested in me. And I invite you to buy many copies and tell me when you do, or ignore the book completely. I can’t do too much about it either way. Meanwhile, I’ll be writing.

xo

Jen